


D'Arbanville

by mummified



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, Nightmares, Past Abuse, Pregnancy, marmalade - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 03:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13472565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mummified/pseuds/mummified
Summary: Margot reflects on Alana's pregnancy.





	D'Arbanville

**Author's Note:**

> My lady D'Arbanville, why do you sleep so still?  
> I'll wake you tomorrow  
> And you will be my fill, yes, you will be my fill
> 
> My lady D'Arbanville, why does it grieve me so?  
> But your heart seems so silent  
> Why do you breathe so low, why do you breathe so low?

 

  
Before the pregnancy Alana had been a very light sleeper, she thought. She would often have a drink or two before bed to ensure she slept the night through, especially after Hannibal. She would start at even the slightest noise. A whispering fan was enough to keep her awake an entire night, eyes dark and lined even darker, frantically watching the shadows in the corners of her room before needing to get up and hobble through the house. She hated every moment of it.

Pregnancy however allowed her the constant exhaustion of creating a life inside her body. When her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light for the evening. Slight sounds didn't rouse her, her lashes never fluttered at Margot moving in and out of bed beside her. She would lay her hands atop her protruding stomach with an affectionate smile as Margot wove her fingers through Alana's dark curls and say it was their sweet baby that finally had her sleeping like a normal person.

Margot knew it was more likely the fact that she knew Hannibal was contained, behind many locked doors that she held all the keys to and not lurking in the dark corners of their bedroom that kept her resting easy, but she kept her words to herself.

Alana slept like the dead. Margot admitted this over a qiuet breakfast one morning, causing Alana to ripple with laughter at the statement.

Margot had sipped her orange juice and allowed a soft smile to the woman across from her, dismissing it when Alana asked the maid for more marmalade.

Sincerely though, Margot thought to herself later again that evening, pressing a kiss to Alana's brow as she dozed in the armchair with a book in her lap.

"Go to bed," she whispered and Alana turned tired eyes to hers, that stubborn streak she fully expected to find in the years to come with their child flickering in her gaze. "Don't make me attempt to carry you." She threatened lightly. Alana couldn't help the smile that flitted across her mouth and she tucked the book away for tomorrow, shuffling off to the bedroom. She paused in the doorway, to glance back at the woman who looked after her fondly.

"Coming?"

"In a bit, I want to look over my schedule for tomorrow first." Margot gave an incline of her head and Alana smiled soflty before finally leaving the library.

The truth of it was that Alana slept like the dead. Her already pale, sharp features were made more so in the dim of their bedroom. Even with Margot's bedside lamp bathing the bed in a warm glow, her pallor was all cold shades of night that looked like death to Margot.

Too often she would jerk awake from one nightmare or another and find Alana's chest abnormally still, her body completely unmoved from the time she lay down, hands clasped lightly over her swollen stomach, her fingertips and lips a shade darker than normal.

Perhaps it was Margot's imagination or perhaps it was Alana's poor circulation from the stress of the pregnancy but when Margot fearfully brushed her fingers against Alana's pale cheek, she felt so cold.

She didn't have the heart to tell the woman she loved that she dreaded sharing a bed with her, that her slumber gave Margot all sorts of horrible nightmares.

So instead, she would slip into bed next to Alana until her breathing slowed. Her breath lightening enough that Margot had to fight the urge, though often failing, to place her ear above Alana's breast to listen for her faint heartbeat. She would slip out of bed to sleep in the adjoining study (soon to be nursery) more nights than not, like a guard dog at their bedroom door.

She would smooth Alana's hair over her shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the sweet skin of her neck and shoulder while they browsed furniture and paint swatches for the nursery. At the start, Alana had scoffed at the idea of the custom-carved rosewood crib going anywhere other than their room. But between the shadowy crib in the corner and Alana's terrifyingly still form laying beside her, Margot could no longer sleep in the room.

She would often pace in the study, half dozing on the love seat, watching the fire with watery eyes as the ice clinked in the tumbler cradled between her palms. She would often wonder if she would be able to face these things without the fear born from the life experiences Mason had gifted her.

Even with the strength his death had given her, she still wore his scars, carrying him with her like a devil on her shoulder.

" _Can't have nice things, Margot because you don't earn nice things. Don't deserve those nice things without earning them._ " His voice would whisper at night, pity dripping off his words like warm honey. She could still feel his breath on her neck and the painful dip of his knife in her skin. " _I'm making you stronger, Margot. One day you'll thank me. I promise._ "

Even though these thoughts of Mason made her feel filthy, made her scrub her skin raw in boiling hot showers, Mason was always the epitome of clean and tidy. Smelling fresh and childlike, he would preen under their father's praise.  
  
She could never utter her fears out loud. How she quaked with fear that her son would look at her with Mason's eyes. That the scent of baby powder would bring violent flashes and memories of pain and tears in her eyes. She nearly dreaded the day.

But some nights, Alana would stay awake with her and they would trade soft whispers of childhood dreams. Alana's voice like a lullaby and when Margot ran her fingers across the taut skin of her large belly, she could feel their child shifting inside beneath her hand. She could hear Alana's steady heart thumping beneath her ear and she could pretend convince herself everything would be fine.

Alana smelled like fresh fruit. If Margot pressed her nose to a peach, perfectly ripe, it would smell like her wife. Alana's laugh at her words always made her smile even with her nose tucked in Alana's hair, feeling the warmth of her mouth against Margot's neck, whispering endearments about peaches. Before the pregnancy, her scent was darker, more like Margot's, more like misery.

Margot didn't want any darkness in her home any longer. She didn't want her child to be Mason in her eyes. She hoped and prayed to every god she thought might exist that everything that made Mason a terrible monster could be overwritten by the graceful kindness of Alana, her unbridled passion and ferocious sense of justice.

Some nights Margot would choke over such strong hope that she would slide back into bed and weave her arms around Alana's cold, still form, awake until dawn listening to the soft flutter of her heart, aching for the day their child would enter the world.

Other nights she would wrap herself in a long coat and stalk the grounds like a wolf scenting her territory. She admitted very little of this to Alana, simply stating she must be feeling the urge to nest. The corners of Alana's eyes would crinkle in amusement and while she may doubt Margot's words, she graciously never mentioned it. Margot was happy that Alana was content to rest and consume large amounts of marmalade.

She could ignore the nightmares of Mason looming over her, of trucks crashing into their family car, of waking next to a corpse.

She could deal with it as it came because after all they had been through, she was stronger, she could survive it. Especially when she could see the light at the end of the tunnel. When she could close her eyes and picture Alana holding their child over the crib in their bedroom, smiling gently and offering her hand, warm sunlight all around them. She could see it, nearly taste it. All she has to do is wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> CAN I JUST SAY HOW MUCH I LOVE ALANA/MARGOT?  
> CAN I? Because I really really do  
> Margot is one of my favorite characters of the series to be honest. 
> 
> viva-la-butts on tumblr ♥


End file.
